


Down the Garden Path

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We're talking about <i>sex</i>, Spock. You calling me captain now takes it to a whole new level of kinky."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down the Garden Path

**Author's Note:**

> written for the [Kink meme](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/7586.html?thread=18741154#t18741154) prompt: _always a girl! Spock is not only a virgin, she's never had an orgasm. Kirk remedies this. (More specific bonus: this goes from "I'll give you an amazing first orgasm" to "Don't you want to experience other sexual positions" to "Okay, I'm kind of in love with you")_

"You mean you've never -- " Captain Kirk gapes at her in a quite inelegant fashion and Spock nods a confirmation.

Privately, she is uncertain as to how she allowed herself to be drawn into such a conversation with her commanding officer. It is common knowledge that James T. Kirk operates by a code known only to himself, but how it is that he can impress said code upon others yet remains a mystery to his second.

As she considers the chess board before her, Spock finds herself wondering why the Ambassador had not warned her of this. Though, she realizes, this does indeed explain the apparent amusement in the elder woman's eyes.

"_Really_?" Kirk asks. "You're a _virgin_?"

Spock selects a piece from the board. Holding it, she brushes her thumb over its surface, feeling the slight imperfections. "I am. You seem surprised, Captain."

"Jim," he corrects, making a face. "We're talking about _sex_, Spock. You calling me captain now takes it to a whole new level of kinky."

"Very well, Jim," she says.

He smiles in satisfaction. "Now, seriously, you have _never_ had sex? Never. Not once. At all." He leans forward. "Second base? First? Made out? None of it?"

"As surprising as this seems to you, Ca--Jim, such things are not a priority for Vulcans." Her answer does not seem to satisfy either of them so Spock tries again. "The Vulcan lifespan is somewhat longer than your own. Therefore, with us, that which you would view as adolescence does not begin until later. I have only just entered that period."

"Ah, so, you can't -- " he waves a hand, his cheeks flushing red. "Fuck."

She raises an eyebrow at that.

He blushes deeper and presses a hand to his eyes. "I am so not handling this well, am I?"

Spock puts the piece back on the board, neatly placing him in check. "No, you are not. In answer to your inference, I am quite capable of copulation."

"But you've never -- "

"I have not," Spock affirms. She thinks to speak of her bondmate, lost with Vulcan, but cannot. On the matter of his death, she is still -- unsettled. While, logically, she grieves his loss, she has experienced relief at being free. Free of familial obligations and of the obligations placed upon her by his eventual pon farr. Her own urges far easier to face alone. "I confuse you."

"Not you," Jim says. "Just wondering how the hell that's even possible. Hasn't anyone ever expressed -- Fuck, Spock, are they _blind_?"

"I believe, Jim, that I am considered quite unapproachable." Experiencing some amusement at his consternation, Spock nods her head toward the board. "I also believe that it is your move."

He looks at the board. "What, oh, right." To Spock's utter annoyance, he glances at the pieces for the briefest of moments then grabs one and thrusts it into place.

Neatly avoiding the trap she'd set for him. With more than a little annoyance, she presses her lips together and stares at the board. Most perplexing.

"Not once," Jim says.

Spock lifts her gaze from the board and looks at him expectantly. "Not once what?"

"Okay, so, you've never had sex," he states, "but you've come right? I mean, you know -- "

Beginning to understand his inference, Spock shakes her head. "I have not."

"Oh, shit, _no_," Jim states. He gets up. "Seriously, you have never even -- not yourself?"

"I have not," Spock repeats. "As I stated, Jim, it is only recently that I have entered a phase where I am biologically capable of such." Even stating it as matter-of-factly as possible, she finds it difficult to meet his gaze. Again, she marvels at James Kirk's ability to draw out of her that which she does not wish to share. "I trust this satisfies your curiosity on the matter."

It is impossible to miss the quick inhalation of breath, nor it's equally quick, forceful release. "Shit, Spock, I -- " He mutters a curse and then a hand closes around hers.

Before she can yank it away, propriety demanding that she should, she is overwhelmed with his concern, humiliation, and --

She lifts her gaze, shocked, feeling the force of his desire slam into her, curling about her body. "_Jim_." His name stutters from her lips as she breathes through the heat suffusing her mind. Images overwhelm her, pictures of herself in varying positions, and Spock's heart thuds heavily in her chest.

_Oh_.

His face burning with his embarrassment, Jim tugs on her hand and she allows herself to be drawn out of her seat. When she is before him, eye to eye, he drops her hand and the contact between their minds, however one-sided, is broken. Spock should experience gratitude at the intrusion's end, but instead she finds herself oddly bereft for its absence.

"I didn't mean to embarrass you," he states, each word seeming to be a challenge. "I really didn't. It's just -- " he waves a hand at her. "Have you _seen_ yourself, Spock? Fuck, half the people I knew at the Academy would've sold their souls for a night with you and you haven't even -- " he coughs. "It's like a crime against humanity or something."

Amused by that, she drops her gaze. "I do not believe, Jim, that my sexual inexperience would constitute a crime on a planetary scale."

His fingers brush the line of her throat, stopping beneath her chin to draw her gaze back to his. "Trust me," Jim says with an unexpectedly gentle expression, "from where I'm standing, it pretty much does." A little grin steals over his face. "I'm probably the worst possible choice to represent men, much less the entire human race, but I guess it's my responsibility."

Spock tips her head. "I do not understand your meaning."

He moves closer. "Commander Spock, is it not the captain's responsibility to see to the health and welfare of his crew?"

Ah. Spock begins to see his reasoning and, in the spirit of the matter, she shakes her head. "Ultimately, I believe such welfare is primarily the province of the ship's chief medical officer."

Jim chuckles. "Well, maybe, but no way in hell am I letting Bones steal you."

She cannot quite stop herself from raising an eyebrow. "Captain?"

He mock-scowls at her. "Spock, I'm propositioning you here. _Please_."

"Very well, Jim," she says, relenting. "Am I to understand that you wish to induce in me a satisfactory sexual response?"

"Fuck no," Jim says with a broad grin. "I want to make you come so hard you see stars."

"If I wish to see astral bodies, it is a simple matter to walk to a viewport."

He scowls, but she suspects there is no true anger behind it. Rather, Jim seems quite _pleased_. "You're fucking with me, aren't you?"

Spock is tempted to deceive him, but cannot. "Your imprecise use of language makes it somewhat difficult to resist." She straightens, finding it difficult to regain her usual composure so that she can apologize. Still despite her physical state, she clasps her hands behind her back and begins. "I must apologize -- "

It is then she realizes that he is suppressing laughter. "You, I believe," she says with some aggravation, "are fucking with me."

That does it.

"Sorry," he begins, "you're just so damn se--hang on," Jim holds up a hand, pointing at her. "Did you just _swear_?"

"I echoed your own sentiment," Spock tips her head. "I believed it appropriate for the situation."

"That was the hottest thing _ever_." Jim backs her against the wall, his eyes intent upon her. "Say that again."

Spock does not understand, but it is a command and she obeys it. "Fuck. Jim, I must confess, that I fail to see how my use of profanities would have any impact upon sexual arousal." And yet there is no doubt that he is indeed aroused by it. It is most certainly his erection that is pressing against her in a most distracting fashion and she felt him push against her when she uttered the word.

"It's because you -- " he waves a hand. "You're _you_. Commander Spock. Always perfect, always composed, never ever having to sink to using profanity to communicate an idea. I know, it probably won't make any sense to you, but the idea of a prim and proper lady using words like fuck is sexy as hell." He nuzzles against her neck, up to her ear in a fashion that makes it quite difficult for Spock to think clearly. "It's the idea that underneath all that control, there's a wildcat just waiting to bust loose and fuck you into next year."

"Ah," Spock nods. She contemplates, for the briefest of moments, an attempt to explain how appropriate his analogy is, but ultimately rejects it. Such a revelation would suggest a level of intimacy they have yet to attain. "Very well. I do not see any logical reason to deny your request."

Jim rolls his eyes. "Spock, I have a question for you."

"Then ask."

"Does Vulcan have any porn?"

"We do not," she says. "Why?"

He smirks. "Because, it'd make a great cure for insomnia. Spock, I'm trying to seduce you here and your answer is that it's logical? Sex and romance aren't supposed to be logical."

"I was not aware that romance was at issue," Spock states. "However, if you do wish to engage in such rites prior to copulation, then I believe such can be arranged. What is the expression Human females use? I get dinner first?"

Jim laughs. "Get that one from Uhura?"

"Gaila," Spock replies. "She determined that my ignorance of Terran culture was a stain upon my mother's lineage. I am, as yet, uncertain as to how that is possible, but I saw no reason to deny her request either."

"Yeah?" he asks. "And how's that working for you?"

"Quite sufficiently, it would seem," Spock says. She looks at Jim. "And from your perspective?"

Jim smiles. "All depends on what happens when I touch you." He looks at her hair. "Can I?"

"You may," she affirms.

She stills as he reaches up. "Your hair is _amazing_," he says, quietly as the first lock falls to her shoulder, bouncing against her breast. "It's gorgeous."

"It is traditional," Spock murmurs as the next pin falls to the floor, and another, and another after that. "A signifier of my station."

"Ambassador's daughter?"

"No," Spock says. "My station with in Vulcan society."

"Ahh, so, you're like royalty?" Jim turns her away, against the wall, giving his fingers access to continue working diligently on the pins. He's behind her, his body against hers, cool and solid, and Spock finds herself leaning against him.

"After a fashion," she replies.

"Yeah?"

Spock jerks, surprised, when his fingers part the thick curtain of her hair and his lips press against the back of her neck. "Yes," she sighs, uncertain as to what she is addressing the comment. His question or his mouth on her body.

"Go to a lot of fancy parties then?" he murmurs, his palms brushing down her arms, over her uniform. "I think I'd like to see that. I bet the dresses you wear are incredible."

His palm presses against her stomach, creating a pressure that is unfamiliar and oddly welcome all at once. Spock twists against him, hands curling into his hips and pulling him flush against her. "Indeed," she agrees.

"Tholian silk?" he asks, lips brushing the skin of her ear. She shudders. "I bet it would just slide off you like water." His fingers brush the skin of her thigh and, even through the pantyhose, she gets a clear image of herself in his mind. Nude, thick black hair curling down over her breasts, a dress of deep green puddled about her feet.

Caught by it, she closes her eyes. Spock knows the clinical markers of arousal. Her body is flushed, breathing and heart rate elevated, her body slick and ready. She did not, however, anticipate the effect behind these markers. It is quite...heady. It is difficult to concentrate. Even more so to properly evaluate her physical responses which does somewhat defeat the purpose of the whole matter. Unfortunate, that.

Jim curls a hand around the hem of her uniform skirt, drawing it up over her hips. His breath is rough against her ear, stimulating in its own way, and Spock allows herself to focus on the sound. "Open your eyes, Spock," he says, fingers pressing into her skin, just above where she needs it most. She moves, rocking her body in an attempt to urge them to move lower. "Open your eyes and look at yourself."

Spock finds herself unable to refuse him and opens her eyes to the mirror before her. She is uncertain as to when they moved, but they are indeed standing before the mirror and so she again follows his command.

The mirror reveals to her the faces of strangers and Spock is enthralled by the sight. She takes in the sight of their eyes, the captain's eyes, brilliant and clear, her own dark and burning, staring back at her with an intensity that should unnerve her, not set her aflame.

"See it?" Jim's hand rests on her midsection, cool to the fire under her skin.

"I _feel_ it," Spock responds. It is a traitorous admission that Vulcans do not make and the forbidden nature of it thrills her. Curls fingers around his, she draws them down over her body, dragging them over fabric and skin until they are beneath her skirt, his hand pressed tight between her thighs.

He chuckles, rubbing a circle over her clitoris, fingers sliding the material of her underwear over her. Spock is unprepared for the reaction of her body. Logically, she knows the rush of moisture is the body's natural response as it prepares for copulation. However, the surge of anticipation and pleasure that comes with it is intense enough to steal her breath.

She tenses in his hands, a slight gasp slipping past her lips.

"_Gorgeous_," he says. "So fucking gorgeous. Do you even know? God, Spock, I'm going to make you feel so damn _good_."

Spock watches from heavy-lidded eyes as he slips fingers inside her underwear. She can see his hand moving as he pleasures her and she is unable to determine which is more stimulating: the feel of his fingers against her flesh or the image of his hand moving beneath the fabric of her uniform.

"God, Spock, you're hot," Jim says on a groan, his voice rough in her ear.

"It is natural that I would feel such to you," Spock begins, "the temperature of the Vulcan body -- "

"Don't start that one with me," he says, laughing quietly. His fingers slide through her wetness, slick and eager, and Spock jerks when they pass over her clit. "Play semantics later, Commander. Right now, just go with it."

He works her, fingers pushing and sliding, toying with her in the most fascinating of fashions. After a time, Spock begins to catch the rhythm of his movements and she moves with his hand. A soft sigh escapes her and she lets her head rest against his shoulder, permitting herself the luxury of the experience without critical examination, and then he _stops_.

The strangled cry of protest Spock makes is most inappropriate, but satisfying nonetheless. She would be most annoyed with herself if not for the fact she was already quite annoyed with _him_. She grabs for him again, fingers digging into his hip, squeezing hard enough to draw an answering cry from him. "You will continue," she commands in such a fashion that he shudders against her. She closes her eyes, curious, and reaches for the sense of him.

"Fascinating," she murmurs. "You find my tone sexually stimulating."

"Always have," Jim mutters thickly. "It's a thing with you."

"You seem to have many such 'things' about me," Spock states as she probes deeper, finding the quite graphic imagery awaiting her. "You have had fantasies to this effect." She thinks to question him further, but as she is not unaffected by the content of his thoughts, she turns to face him. "Continue and we will explore these images."

Her attempt at bargaining does not elicit the desired response. Instead, he laughs and brings his hand up, slick with her fluids, to slide one finger into his mouth.

Spock watches silently, perplexed by her body's reaction. "This should not be stimulating," she states.

"But?" he asks, continuing with the next finger.

She frowns. "I do not understand." None of it. Not the way her breath catches in her throat, her body tightens, and the instinct rises to take his hand and complete the process for him.

"You will," he says.

"Correct." Spock nods. "We will continue then?"

"No."

"No?" she echoes, her mind slow to respond. "You wish to induce orgasm in me, do you not? It would seem the most effective method and would satisfy you as well. I see no reason not to continue."

"Because," Jim says, his voice maddeningly calm. "I've got a better idea."

She raises a brow at him, but does not protest as he guides her onto his desk. Instead, she watches with undisguised fascination as he kneels before her and pushes her thighs apart. "I'm not letting you walk out of here without knowing what you taste like," he says, tugging her hips forward.

"You intend to perform cunnilingus?" she asks.

He makes a face. "Do you have to call it that?"

"It is the act which you intend to perform, is it not?" she asks reasonably. "Why should I call it anything other than what it is?"

"Yes, but that's not the point," Jim complains. "It's too fucking technical for this." He slides his hands along her thighs in a fashion that Spock might term reverent if she were given to such fanciful terms. Which, of course, she is _not_.

It is her intention to ask him to explain, but then he is pressing his face between her legs. He inhales for a moment then pulls back only long enough to remove her underwear. With this accomplished, he returns to his original position and then his tongue flicks over her.

Everything in Spock's body focuses upon the sensation that explodes through her with complete urgency. She keens out a moan, surprised that she is doing so, and closes her eyes tightly.

_Fascinating_.

She reaches out for him, fingers burying themselves in his hair, holding him against her in a silent command to continue. If he finds the action unpleasant, he does not complain. Thus, she continues to hold on tightly as his lips and tongue work over her, his own fingers pushing into her, stroking gently as they search for her Gräfenberg spot.

Spock considers the research into that area of human sexuality and is tempted to remind him that, for logical reasons, she might not have one, when those curious fingers strike, as the doctor would say, pay dirt. Her response is a gasp and a strangled cry of pleasure.

Spock hears him laugh, dark and satisfied, but she is beyond concern. Sensation sweeps over her body and takes her with it. Jim does not let up, ruthlessly stripping reason and awareness from her until Spock is a raw nerve, her body shaking with the powerful orgasm. Throughout her it, he works her his tongue and lips playing her as though she were a fine instrument and he a great master.

By the time he finally withdraws, Spock is limp from pleasure, a disheveled mess, and most satisfied.

Jim looks up at her, face wet and shining, his eyes excited. He slides fingers over sensitive skin and she presses her lips together, pushing his hand away. "I require time," she says, voice strange to her own ears.

Laughing, he stands over her. "So, Commander?"

She considers it as she sits up and attempts to put herself to rights. "It was quite -- " she pauses. "I believe accurately describing the situation would be somewhat difficult at this time."

"You have no idea," he says, grinning. "Have dinner with me tomorrow night. There's so much more you're missing and, trust me, you can't do any of it on an empty stomach."

Spock regards him with suspicion. "You are planning something."

"Nothing you won't like," Jim says. "You can't just leave it there, Spock. There's a whole universe of possibilities that you're missing out on."

Spock knows that she should protest. She knows that, were she to think, she would have any number of strong arguments why.

However, she is still quite unable to think. The captain has, quite effectively, rendered her cognitive functions inoperable. Spock nods and closes her eyes. "Very well," she says. "Tomorrow at 17:30."

"Tomorrow it is!" he says, standing up. "I'll cook."

It is a good thing, Spock believes, that they likely will skip dinner.


End file.
